


let me tell you what I do know

by princesscharmingx



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Happy Ending tho, Joan is a helpful friend, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, YouTube, but not enough angst to warrant the "angst with a happy ending" tag, canon universe kinda, did, duke don't look, i don't know how to tag, no beta we die like men, remus is only a side mention, virgil and roman are kind of gay if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesscharmingx/pseuds/princesscharmingx
Summary: There’s a comfortable silence as Joan sits at the counter and Patton cooks. 'This would be a great time to tell them, you know,' Patton said in his head, quietly. He’s not sure if it’s addressed to Thomas or Virgil, but it’ll end up reaching both. 'Really, especially since Thomas isn’t in control right now, they might… you know… not…''They might actually believe us and not laugh in our face and ridicule us?' Virgil said dryly. 'Yes, sounds like a great plan.''Okay,' Thomas replied.'Thomas, you can’t fucking be serious.'ORThomas has DID and Joan helps him express that through YouTube and Thomas maybe gets happier not repressing his feelings, as one does and just read it I'm bad at explaining things rip
Comments: 14
Kudos: 183





	let me tell you what I do know

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not have DID! I may have gotten so much wrong, and I apologize, I just... I don't know what my goal was. I wanted to attempt to un-stigmatize DID, I feel like all the media I see of it is horror and I want to attempt to write something softer, something sweeter.
> 
> That being said, this was sitting in my drafts for roughly six months and I finally got around to finishing it just now, so I just tacked on roughly 2000 words and gave up on editing, I hope you enjoy?

_Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper. I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I am sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it._

\- Richard Siken

Thomas didn’t let the other… sides come out when he was with friends. He didn’t.

Only when. Well.

He and Joan were on the couch, pressed close together with wide eyes as screaming came from Thomas’s laptop and general gore was displayed all over the screen. Thomas didn’t like horror, never had, but normally he could _handle_ it, but this was… he felt his breath quicken, eyelids flutter. God. Fuck.

He closed his eyes, just for a second. Just for… he zoned out for a minute, sounds around him becoming muffled.

Joan shook his shoulder. “You good?”

Virgil’s eyes fluttered open. He glanced over at Joan. “Yeah,” he said, voice noticeably hoarser and deeper. He cleared his throat. “Fine,” he said, even more quietly, to make the voice change less noticeable. His thoughts were chaotic and tumbling, and his head kind of ached from switching so quickly.

“Seriously, you okay, Thomas? We can turn off the movie.”

“I’m not—” Virgil said, then caught his words, panicking for a second, about to say _I’m not Thomas_. “I’m fine!”

“Is your voice okay?”

“Yup,” Virgil muttered.

Joan reached out and clicked the pause button on the computer. They moused over the time. “It’s three… you want to go to sleep?”

Virgil shut his eyes and immediately pretended to go to sleep.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go upstairs to the bed?” Joan asked, and _fuck_ , they were suspicious, but Virgil couldn’t say anything more because they would _know_.

“I— uh—” Virgil said, and he was sleepy, slipping into a more comfortable position. “We don’t want to.”

“We?”

Virgil squeezed his eyes tighter. _Virgil, get up, Virgil, make up a lie,_ there’s urgency in his head, except he can’t, he doesn’t want to talk to Janus or Logan and he can’t talk to Roman, he doesn’t _want_ to, so he just doesn’t move until he can hear Joan walk off, probably to go upstairs, and that’s when he relaxes and lets himself drift off into sleep.

When Janus wakes up, his first emotion is irritation, and his second thought is he’s not sure why he’s out. _Remus?_ he thought lazily, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head in a languid motion.

_Don’t have a clue!_ Remus responds almost happily, and Janus can hear his cackling.

_Ask your otherwise good-for-nothing brother,_ Janus replied irritatedly, and stood and turned, walking into the kitchen. He was hungry. He looked around at the cabinets and pantry. He wasn’t quite sure what they had, this really wasn’t his forté.

“Thomas?”

Janus turned around. Oh, it was one of Thomas’s little friends. He couldn’t quite remember his name. “Good morning,” he replied, trying to pitch his voice into Thomas’s higher and generally more irritating register, missing slightly.

“Good… morning. Are you alright? You were pretty out of it yesterday.”

Oh. That’s why he was here. He internally made a comment to Remus that he figured it out. “Was I? I don’t remember,” he lied smoothly, turning around and opening a random cupboard, figuring he might as well try to look. This one was full of glasses and mugs. Thomas had cereal, right? Wasn’t Janus’s ideal morning breakfast, but it didn’t matter. He closed it and opened another one. Pots and pans. Goddammit.

“What are you looking for?” And double dammit, Thomas’s friend still sounded vaguely suspicious.

“Not sure,” Janus lied again. _Bowls, goddamit. Roman, where are the fucking bowls?_ “Just trying to think of what to make for breakfast.”

“Alright. You sure you don’t just want to make what you normally make?”

Janus stiffened, hand pausing on a cabinet knob. Thomas _normally_ ate something? What did he normally eat? He stayed still long enough he didn’t realize what was happening until—

Thomas blinked. He tightened his hand around the cabinet knob. What had Joan just said? Something about… what time was it… breakfast… oh!

Thomas turned around and grinned. “Right! Sorry, yeah,” he turned and headed into the pantry. “Really sorry, I’ve just felt out of it for a bit. Hope I’m not coming down with something,” and he awkwardly forced a laugh, grabbing a bag of cheerios and bringing them out.

Joan studied him for a minute, and Thomas casually opened the cabinet with bowls. “Alright,” Joan said a minute later, softly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

_Don’t stop, Thomas,_ Virgil said sharply, even as Thomas froze, hand on the bowl. _Thomas, grab the bowl, put it down, you’re going to get caught_.

Thomas took down the bowl sharply, almost too sharply, practically slamming the bowl down. He could see Joan jump out of the corner of his eye. “Whoops!” Thomas said, laughing, but he knew the laugh was fake, they both did. “Didn’t mean to do that. Uh. Um.” 

_Let me in control_.

No, _Virgil, absolutely not after that nightmare yesterday_.

There was silence as Thomas finished making a bowl of cereal and moved over to the counter and put down the bowl.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Joan asked, their eyes meeting Thomas’s. Thomas swallowed.

_I’ll tell you when I’m ready_ , Patton said, and Thomas nearly cried with relief at hearing Patton’s voice. _You’ve got to tell them, so tell them you’ll tell them when you’re ready_.

“I’m fine,” Thomas said, clearing his voice. “Sorry I’ve been jumpy. I, uh— you said I can tell you anything?” Thomas smiled at Joan, letting himself relax. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready, alright? Got some stuff going on.”

Joan un-tensed up and they smiled back. “Alright.”

Patton opened the door at the knock, expecting it to be a delivery guy or spam or something. “Oh! Joan, come on in, k—” he cut himself off before he said _kiddo_. Oopsie daisy!

_You’re a fucking wreck,_ Virgil chimed in, voice a little fuzzy. 

_Language!_

Joan stepped in. “You’re dressed… differently.”

Patton stared down at his blue shirt, cardigan tied around his shoulders. “But blue is the best color! It's _cyan_ -tifically proven!"

Joan blinked, then laughed. “You’re feeling playful.”

“I’m feeling _purr-_ fect!” Patton headed into the kitchen. “I’ve been cooking some eggs to keep from feeling _scrambled_.”

Joan snorted as they followed. “You never cook.”

“I… do sometimes!” Patton said, smiling. “Once in a while you just gotta cook, you know? To spruce up your life, and your flavor palette.”

There’s a comfortable silence as Joan sits at the counter and Patton cooks. _This would be a great time to tell them, you know,_ Patton said in his head, quietly. He’s not sure if it’s addressed to Thomas or Virgil, but it’ll end up reaching both. _Really, especially since Thomas isn’t in control right now, they might… you know… not…_

_They might actually believe us and_ not _laugh in our face and ridicule us?_ Virgil said dryly. _Yes, sounds like a great plan._

_Okay,_ Thomas replied.

_Thomas, you can’t fucking be serious._

Ouch, that was aggressive. Patton winced and turned from the eggs he was cooking to Joan. “Hey, Joan…”

“Your favorite color isn’t blue,” Joan replied, and Patton turned, furrowing his eyebrows. “Your favorite color is red and you said it was blue earlier and you’re wearing fake glasses like you’ve forgotten they’re on, and you’re cooking which I’ve never seen you do before.”

“That’s because I’m… not… Thomas,” Patton said, giggling nervously. “Surprise!”

“You’re not… what, are you his twin brother?”

“I’m…” Patton stopped, and blinked, eyes falling slack. He froze for several seconds, then he reached out and sharply turned the stove off, sliding the pan over to a non-hot grill. He proceeded to zone out for a second more.

“Thomas, are you alright?” Joan asked, standing up.

Logan zoned in, blinking a few times. “For fuck’s sake, Patton,” Logan muttered, shaking himself, and immediately untying the cardigan, folding it neatly, and putting it on the counter. “At least you turned the stove off.”

“I’m sorry, my name’s not Patton.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses and patting a hand on his hair, pushing it flatter. “You’re Joan, Thomas’s friend. Nice to meet you. I’m Logan.”

“Wait…” Joan blinked, and took a step back. “Holy shit, you have multiple personality disorder?”

“It’s called Dissociative Identity Disorder, actually,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses again. He grimaced. “Patton would like to apologize, and Thomas wants the reigns, but I’ve already switched once and I’d prefer not to again today, it gives me quite the headache.”

“Your voice even changes, the fuck?” Joan said, and their hands were shaking.

“I’m not the right person to do this,” Logan huffed. “I’m the one that runs memory management and such, and a lot of the logic and information Thomas has. Patton’s the emotional one. You met him a minute ago — actually, two minutes and thirteen seconds ago — which brings the total number of alters you’ve met up to… five, if my calculations are correct.”

“Who else did I meet?” Joan said, and they sounded incredulous.

“Virgil, who saved Thomas from having a panic attack on the couch,” Logan said, matter-of-factly. “Janus, who you met the morning after that. You’ve met Thomas, of course, our host — or main alter — and you just met Patton and now me.” Logan looked down at himself and pinched at the shirt. “Of course, I’d never wear this,” Logan said dryly. “I normally have a tie. Of course, I’d have blue eyes and shorter, darker hair, in an ideal world, but I’m stuck in this body.”

“How many of you are there?” Joan asked, and they sounded remarkably calm. 

_Probably not good,_ Patton warned. _Normally people react more emotionally to this, once Thomas is back out there’s bound to be an explosion_.

Logan ignored him. “Seven, not including the littles, and fragments,” he said, quickly counting off on his fingers. “Two of them are negative but still beneficial, one of them can be perceived as negative but still beneficial, and three are positive.” 

“T—” Joan swallowed. “Logan, how have I never known about this?”

“We’re quite good at keeping hidden, we don’t normally switch,” Logan said, staring off to the side, furrowing his brow as he tries to bring up the mind palace’s front room. Virgil. Patton. Thomas. Where was Roman? “We only switch on command when we… feel…” Logan hesitated. “Feel safe,” he finished at a low mutter. “When we feel comfortable. That’s why I’m the only one who… doesn’t switch on command.”

“Alright.”

Logan turned. “You’re really awfully calm about this.”

“I’ve… I’ve heard about it. I need a couple of days to register, I think,” Joan said calmly, staring at the kitchen counter. “You _look_ different?”

“Yes, we all do,” Logan said, crossing his arms. “Janus isn’t even fully human, half his face is scales and his right eye is a snake eye. Of course, we all appear as Thomas, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Right.” Joan looked up. “Look, Thomas— Logan. I need to go.”

“Okay,” Logan watched him leave. “I apologize if I upset you.”

“I just… need to think.”

Thomas clutched the side of his head. Fucking hell. They were fighting again.

“You’re a _bitch_!” Virgil screamed at Logan. “I wanted to get out, you should’ve let me out! Joan wouldn’t have been mad!”

“You would’ve had a panic attack on the floor and while I don’t think it would make Joan mad, I’m not sure it would make them happy or more comforted, either,” Logan replied. 

“We could’ve been co-conscious!”

Logan shut his eyes. “Were you even listening to me when I was talking, or were you throwing a hissy fit? I can’t switch at will, Virgil, and you of all people should know this!” He opened his eyes back up and took off his glasses for a second to rub at his eye. “You couldn’t for the longest time either, so why are you going after me for this?”

_He’s afraid, Logan_ . No one was _listening_ to him, and Thomas wanted to slam his head into a wall.

“They’re our best friend,” Patton said timidly.

“ _Thomas’s_ best friend,” Virgil snapped.

“ _Our_. Thomas and I,” Patton replied, taking a step back. “I can… just because they’ve only talked to me once, I still… I like them as a person and they’re… I like them…”

Virgil turned his attention away from Logan for a second, concern flashing in his eyes. “Shit. I’m— I’m sorry, Patton.” He took a step forward, and Patton tackle-hugged him, with Virgil tensing up. “Easy there, Pat.”

“I have friends,” Patton whispered, softly and cutely, and Virgil’s heart clenched.

“ ’Course you do,” Virgil said, also softly, like he was talking to a pet. “Logan, head to your room for a bit.”

Logan visibly bristled, but he headed out of the front room and Thomas’s thoughts calmed for a little bit. Thomas blinked open his eyes and he grabbed his voice, taking in a breath and holding it, as if that would help any of the matters. _Hey_ , he texted Joan.

Immediate reply. _What’s up?_

_Not feeling great,_ Thomas admitted. He hesitated after he sent it. Joan didn’t respond immediately, as if waiting for Thomas to elaborate. _They’re fighting_.

_Not anymore,_ Virgil said, and he sounded right next to Thomas, and Thomas almost jumped. He hadn’t realized Virgil had gotten that close to the front, they were nearly co-controlling. _Fuckin’ scared?_

“No,” Thomas mumbled out loud. 

_You need me to come over?_ Thomas’s phone dinged.

Virgil and Thomas both stared at it and shit, they really were co-controlling now. Bad idea, why’d they text Joan in the first place.

They shook their head. _Shit, Virgil, get out of my head,_ Thomas said, but maybe that was Virgil talking to Thomas. Shit.

Thomas gasped and blinked repeatedly. He was back. _Warn me next time, I’ll let you co-con if I’m ready for it,_ he scolded Virgil. He was fine co-coning most of the time and a lot of the time it was helpful but whenever it took him by surprise he freaked out.

_Sure,_ he texted Joan, ignoring Virgil’s grumbles of complaint.

“Are you okay?”

Thomas was staring at the sofa, dissociating, every sound muffled and ringing in his ears. “Yeah, I’m—” he swallowed, the noise too loud to his ears, increasing his headache. “I’m fine. Mostly. Sort of.”

“Who’s…”

“Patton’s crying,” Thomas muttered, zoning out and visualizing the Mind Palace, as they affectionately called their Inner World. “Patton got yelled at so he age slid and now he’s crying and it’s really giving me a headache. Virgil keeps trying to take the lead because I’m two seconds away from having a panic attack but I think if he fronts I might have a panic attack regardless.”

Joan was quiet. Thomas glanced over at them. 

“Why’d you agree to come over if you were uncomfortable with this?” Thomas demanded, and oh, that was Virgil. They were co-controlling now and Thomas tried to relax and let him, their thoughts mingling.

“Your voice changed,” Joan muttered, then cleared their throat. “Listen, I’m— I’m sorry, it’s not that I’m uncomfortable—”

“Just think I’m lying, then,” Virgil spat.

“I’ve never had a friend that had something like this, Thomas!”

“I’m not fucking _Thomas_ ,” Virgil said, rubbing his eyes. Shit, this was a bad idea, he had tried to tell Thomas. Thomas was in the back of his mind, but he was having a breakdown and so was Patton and Virgil needed to take control of the body for a bit.

“Then what person are you?” Joan asked, scraping their nails on their pants.

“This is Virgil.” He shook himself, the headache fading to just a faint pressure on the side of his skull. “Feeling better now. Fucking moron. Hey! You deserve it.”

Joan blinked. “Was that…”

“Not at you,” Virgil leaned back on the couch. “Thomas is still talking to me. I’m still disassociating, give me a sec. _Holy_ shit, oh my god, that’s a lot of…” Virgil trailed off, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, breathing. Patton wants out, shit, but at least Thomas had gone into the Mind Palace. “Alright, we’re back. I’m back.”

“Are you alright?”

Virgil turned his head, scowling, neck resting on the couch. “Are _you_ alright?”

“No, I’m not,” Joan said, fidgeting. “Listen, I don’t know much about this, and while I want to support you, I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“We have DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder,” Virgil said. “It’s a severe case of dissociation to the point that not only do your emotions _seem_ to belong to different beings, they _do_ belong to different beings, most of them being people. And the function of DID being that it’s not your emotions that separate, but your memories as well, making each of us holders of different trauma. If you asked Thomas about his childhood ages four to twelve, he couldn’t tell you a fuckin’ thing.”

Joan leaned back, slowly, carefully. “So…”

“I keep Thomas’s anxiety in check, technically,” Virgil said. “I cause him a lot of anxiety, too, which isn’t my intention. Funnily enough, I also _hold_ his anxiety. I take over when he can’t process things or is on the verge of a breakdown and I give all of us time to calm down, because I’m honest and fucking blunt.”

“And you’re… Virgil.”

“I am.”

There was silence.

“You mentioned Patton.”

God fucking dammit, there was his name, and now Patton wanted _out_. Virgil sat up from where he was slouched back on the couch and leaned forward, arms propped on his legs as if he were about to throw up, and a dull ringing in his ears. Blinked once, twice—

Patton sat back up, and oh, my friend is here!! Joan!!! Patton laughed and clapped his hands twice. “Hi!! Oh my god I’ve met you before and I was older then I think so I’m—” Patton frowned, a worrying thought occurring to him. “Oh no, do you not recognize me? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I can try to—”

“No, it’s okay!” and Joan put on a smile, and maybe it was fake, but it made Patton really really happy. “You’re Patton?”

“How did you guess!!” Patton squealed, and though it was phrased like a question it was more of an exclamation.

“I was just talking to Virgil,” Joan laughed, and it seemed a bit more genuine.

But oh— Patton’s smile fell fast and he pouted. “Virgil was just _mean_ to me,” Patton grumped. “Said you weren’t my friend.” Joan stiffened. Patton didn’t notice. “Was all like ‘only Thomas can have friends, _Patton_ , he’s the _host_ , Patton,’ and I got all sad and small.”

“Small?”

Patton hugged himself, curling his fingers into the red sleeves of the shirt, into his body. Except this wasn’t his body, Thomas was too tall and too thin and his skin was too pale, but at least it grounded Patton. “Small,” Patton said, softly, and his thoughts were reorganizing as he registered where he was and the comfort being given to him. “Young.”

Patton closed his eyes again and slowed his breathing, which had been fast unintentionally as he had tried to fill tiny lungs but only had big ones. When his eyes fluttered open again, it was Virgil back at the forefront of the mind. “Thanks, Joan.”

“Who…?”

“Virgil,” he clarified. “I’m back again. Patton just _really_ wanted out, and you can’t stop a little when it wants out. Fucking brats, the lot of ’em. Shit, the headache’s coming back, we’ve switched a lot really quickly.” He shook his head, as if that would knock over all of the people milling about in the Mind Palace. 

“Do you look different?” Joan said randomly.

Virgil gave them a weird look. “In real life? Yeah I guess, Logan has a straight-ass posture like there’s a broomstick stuck up his ass—”

“In your mind,” Joan interrupted, amused.

“Oh, ’course,” Virgil said, shaking his head to make his hair fall in front of his face. “I personally have Thomas’s lovely ice-white skin tone, though my hair is a lot longer and is bright purple on the tips. My teeth are sharp, because Thomas designed me after demons when he was five, because apparently demons are mighty and tough.” Virgil poked a tongue at his teeth. “Teeth are nothing like that now, obviously. My voice is deeper. And rougher. Thomas talks with _way_ too much energy.”

Joan was staring at him.

“What?” Virgil snapped defensively, and tugged at the end of Thomas’s t-shirt sleeves. “Why are you looking at me?”

“Got an idea,” Joan said, and then shook their head. “But nevermind, it’s… it’s a stupid idea. Ignore me.”

“Alright, I will,” Virgil said, because he’s had enough for today.

_Can you order certain alters out?_ Joan texted Logan at 4 in the morning. Logan wasn’t usually awake or at least in control this late (early?) but Thomas was in the middle of the video and his editing skills were getting sloppy and Logan took over and was halfway through editing a video.

_Of course you can,_ Logan texted back. _Even the person not in command, as in a friend or even a stranger can trigger certain alters out by playing songs or giving certain gifts, and these are referred to as positive triggers. However if other people besides the system does them, it can come with ramifications and if you do it without us knowing then we’ll feel taken advantage of, so I recommend you don’t try that with Thomas._

_Thomas…?_

_This is Logan._

_Oh._

That’s all Logan got, and he shrugged and went back to work. He didn’t care to carry a conversation, as he needed to work and then leave. He didn’t like being out very often, it made him feel mildly vulnerable and having to interact with Thomas’s friends was exhausting.

There was a knock at Roman’s door. “Come iiiiiiin!” he called, turning the last word into a note. “Nailed it,” he muttered to himself.

Virgil swung open the door, a grin tugging at his lips. “What’s been going on?”

“Nothing’s been going on,” Roman said, spinning around in his chair, which had wheels because Roman was like that. “What are you talking about? You saw me at Patton’s enforced dinner the other night.”

“Did I?” Virgil raised his eyebrows. “Pull me up a chair.”

Roman waved his fingers and a chair appeared underneath Virgil as he sat down. “Alright, bossypants.”

“Not even a good nickname,” Virgil mused. “C’mon Princey, what’s up? Like, _really_ what’s up, you haven’t come out to the front room at all even with all the drama that’s been going on with Joan.” A pause. “Or is that the issue?”

“No, it’s not,” Roman sighed. “I’m _bored_ , Virgil. We’re meant to be going on grand adventures and _doing_ things with our life! YouTube is fun but I feel like we’re making the same content and I want to be experimental! Creative!”

“Have you tried talking to Thomas, you stupid dipshit?” Virgil asked, his voice laced with affection. “Or have you sat here holed up in your room like a three year old child?”

“We all know if I was three you’d be all over me,” Roman muttered, and the easy smile slipped off Virgil’s face. 

“Alright,” Virgil said, standing and kicking over the chair. “Thanks for that, asshole, have a great day I guess, see you next week at dinner or maybe never, if you’re going to keep moping around and insulting people like this.” He moved to the door, and paused hand on the doorframe. “If you had said something about _me_ I wouldn’t have minded,” Virgil muttered. “But going after fucking _Patton_? Really? Asshat.”

He slammed the door behind him.

“You want to…” Thomas blinked. “You want to make a YouTube series about us?”

“I know you don’t really want people knowing,” Joan said, tapping their fingers on the computer mousepad. “So the idea is that each of your alters acts out a different _side_ , or a different emotion or personality trait. Of course, we add more complexity, but that’s the theme, or idea. These aren’t different people, they’re just different parts of your personality that all form you. We’re the only ones that would know otherwise.”

“Would the alters act out the different characters?” Thomas asked, pressing his nails into his palm.

“Only if they felt comfortable, but I think it would make the characters and the acting seem more natural, yeah,” Joan explained. “So, uh… what do you think?”

“I think… it’s something I’d enjoy watching,” Thomas said, still staring at the screen and not Joan, at the words that he’s not focusing on anymore. “So sure, yeah, I agree, but I’ve got to get at least two of the others to agree, and Roman’s been pissy with me for the last couple of weeks, so we’ll see how that goes.” 

“Alright,” Joan said. “And I just— this isn’t because I’m like ‘let’s watch the freak show!’, I just wanted to try to… you know, dress the characters up as them and let them have their voices and let themselves be portrayed on screen as closer to how they think— how they are in your head.”

Thomas snapped his gaze away from the screen to Joan, and genuinely smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s really, really thoughtful and sweet, thank you so much.”

Joan flushed a little bit. “It’s nothing.” They grinned. “It’ll be you doing most of the work anyway, so it’s not like I really did much. I’ll see if I can get Talyn on board. Not tell them about you, just about the idea. See what they think. They have the attention to detail, I could never.”

Thomas snorted, and for the first time in about a week — god, it’s felt like an eternity — he feels normal, relaxed, happy, calm. Of course there’s still Roman acting pissy, the fact that Janus has been missing, Virgil will throw a fit, but right now he doesn’t need to worry about them. He’s just Thomas.

“You agreed to _what_?”

Thomas winced. He was in the front room, temporarily letting Patton front as he explained the situation to Virgil and Logan. This was mostly because he knew Patton would readily agree to it and so he wouldn’t mind explaining a second time. “Maybe we should… get Roman first? See what he thinks?”

“He’s been locked up in his room for weeks,” Virgil snorted, and for some reason he looked pissed. “Fucking asshole, went in there to try to cheer him up and get him out and all he really did was make fun of me.”

“I…” Thomas sighed. “Logan, go get Roman, you know I can’t really enter the Mind Palace. Virgil, stay down here and we’ll talk.”

“Oh, we’ll talk, alright,” Virgil seethed. They waited until Logan closed the door behind him and then Virgil exploded. “What were you _thinking_? Do you think people wouldn’t see right through us? Do you think people don’t understand what this would look like?”

“It’s just… it would be just a fun show! A fun segment!” Thomas protested. “I know you’re just trying to protect us, but have a little bit of reason!”

“I am—”

“No one pointed at Inside Out and said ‘oh, Riley has DID!’ Because it’s just an innocent kids movie meant to talk about how your emotions work!”

They had a stare-off for a brief minute, and then Virgil huffed a sigh. “If the other idiots agree to it, you can do it, but _I’m_ not going to be in it, don’t even think about it for a minute. You’re also not allowed to have my likeness, my name, or a mention that I’m an alter.”

“Deal,” Thomas said. “You’d be a great lawyer.”

“Too bad you wouldn’t.”

The door opened and they both turned. Logan was dragging Roman by the ear, and dropped him in front of them with a matter-of-factly air, while Roman was screaming with rage — or maybe just pain. It was probably just pain.

“What in the name of Merlin’s beard is this about?” Roman demanded, jumping to his feet. His eyes (besides Janus’s) were always the weirdest to look at, flashing pure gold when he was mad or passionate, but most of the time a beautiful honey color. “What could possibly constitute me being dragged down by my ear?”

“Your unwillingness to come with me,” Logan said calmly. “Thomas has a proposition.”

“I do!” Thomas said, clapping his hands together. “So it’s an idea for YouTube…”

As it’s explained, Roman’s eyes grow brighter and brighter and once Thomas finishes he practically jumps up and down. “I love it! When do we start?”

“Once I convince someone else to join us. Patton’s down—”

“You didn’t even ask him,” Virgil complained.

“Oh shut it, you know Patton would do anything Thomas asked,” Roman said, waving his hand. Virgil’s scowl intensified. “And before you say ‘he’s not _easy_ ,’ I _know_ , I just… he’s like an excitable puppy. Anyway, glasses?”

“I don’t necessarily want to do it,” Logan mused. “Though I know you’re going to do it anyway and I don’t want to see how horrendously you mess up my character.”

“Character?” Roman snickered. “Are you not real?”

“Character, noun, one of the attributes of features that make up and distinguish an individua—”

“Oh, be quiet,” Roman chided. “I’m in as long as I get to be Logan.”

“You’re in either way,” Thomas pointed out. “Alright I’m going to go back out, please talk to Patton, and Virgil I’m asking you to not try to make this look like the worst idea in the world or he’ll panic. It’s just a YouTube series.”

“I will try my very best,” Virgil said, completely deadpan, and it would be funny if Thomas wasn’t genuinely nervous.

_Patton, can you let me out?_ Thomas said, pressing his thoughts out, and for a split second there was a fuzzy feeling of being slightly too small for the body and his mind and emotions getting tangled with Patton’s. It was almost like being cuddled under ten blankets with someone who holds your hand and kisses the side of your face constantly; it was cute and nice for a few minutes and then it gets claustrophobic and irritating.

But it only lasted a few seconds, so when Thomas opened his eyes and felt back in his body, with the only impediment of his ears ringing slightly and a little headache from a too-quick, mildly forced switch, but Thomas liked being in the Outer World and not stuck in the Mind Palace. Because here, things seemed real.

Halfway through the video, Patton — who was elected to play the part of Logan, much to Roman’s dismay — felt thoughts whisper around the back of his brain. _I would never say that_ , Logan scoffed.

_Well you’re not here, are you?_ Patton asked, drifting off whatever he was saying. He can’t remember, his train of thought was all over the place. They had a script, but they each were able to write their own parts, while Logan said he didn’t have enough time to. Patton wasn’t sure what else he was doing, but he also didn’t mind that much.

_That’s… I’m here,_ Logan said, and he sounded both irritable and defeated.

“Patton, you good?” Joan called from behind the camera. Patton blinked and focused. Oh! Oh, yes, they were supposed to be filming a video.

“Yeah! Sorry, what’s my line? I’m having…” Patton tapped on his temple to demonstrate. “Sorry, just difficulty focusing.”

“Oh, of course, it’s fine,” Joan said, checking the script. “So Roman just did a clever sort of burn to Thomas and everyone’s like doing an ‘ _oooohhh_ ’ sort of reaction, you know.”

Patton blinked, and his voice turned slightly less high pitched. “We would never say that.”

Joan frowned. “I, uh… what?”

Patton shook himself. “Sorry, Logan’s being bitter that we wrote him wrong even though he didn’t bother showing up,” he laughed. He acted out the scene, and they took the second cut. Patton stood there, shifting, as Joan flipped through to see Logan’s next line. At least he had glasses, but the tie and the shirt and everything really felt weird, he can’t say that he liked it, not really. These were Logan’s clothes.

“Patton?”

Patton didn’t respond, staring at the ground.

“Patton, I need you to respond to me.”

Patton glanced up and met Joan’s worried eyes. “Sorry,” he said, faking a smile and laughing. “Just disassociating.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Joan asked curiously. “Just… like, is it something I should be worried about or not?”

Patton shrugged. “Sometimes it’s because of negative emotions but sometimes it’s because I’m talking to someone else in the system or because I’m on the verge of switching or co-controlling, so it really depends on the situation. Let’s run the scene?”

“Alright,” Joan said, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but returning to the script. They traced a finger down the page. “Alright… it’s ‘but you tend to overthink the situation.’ ”

Patton cleared his voice and pitched down his tone again. “But you tend to…” he paused, very briefly, just for a millisecond, then, in a more accurate tone of voice, “overthink things, rule out possibilities with logic, dream up obstacles with each new connection you make—”

He cut himself off so the flow of conversation would sound natural when they put in Thomas’s line, and yeah, they were co-controlling now. “How did we do?”

Joan blinked at the inferred _we_. “Not the line, but great improv. Is, uh… Logan in there with you?”

“Somewhat, yeah.”

Joan grinned. “Knew he’d be on board. Next line—”

“I only did it because you were butchering my personality so much,” Logan said later, in the kitchen, with a dry tone of voice and an eyebrow raise. “Couldn’t even get my voice right, and we literally live together.”

“Of course,” Patton wiggled his eyebrows. “That’s what he wants us to think,” he said in a stage whisper to Roman, who was sitting at the table.

Steps made them all turn. Virgil was coming down the staircase and stopped when he saw all of them together. “Uh… hi, what’s going on?”

“Virgil! You want to be in the next video? It was so much fun, I had so much fun—though I don’t think Joan did, trying to get me to stop dissociating for half the time but it was mostly Logan’s fault,” Patton beamed, looking not at all upset about that.

“To be fair,” Logan said, leaning against the counter. “The video did very well, statistically, so you don’t have to worry about it being ill-received by the audience. The audience enjoyed it and wants to see more, actually, but they might have to wait a few months for Thomas’s schedule to accommodate more time.”

Virgil huffed. “If the second one is released and does well, I’ll consider it.”

“Consider it…?” Patton drew out.

“If the second one is released and reaches fifty thousand likes I’ll do it,” Virgil said. “Alright, I got places to go.” He turned and left.

“DID seems so cool to have,” Joan mentioned as he and Thomas were sitting on the couch thinking out ideas for the next video. “You have an entire little world inside your head full of people that do things and interact without you doing anything. You have a microcosm inside your head.”

“You wouldn’t want it,” Thomas replied bitterly, staring at the notepad until the words blurred.

“How’d you get it?” Joan asked, tapping his nails on the paper.

“DID is formed through intense, repeated trauma before the ages of 7 to 9, before the personality fully integrates,” Thomas repeated robotically. “The child feels as if it might not survive the situation, and the brain—in order to protect the child—puts up amnesic barriers between parts of the memory so the host doesn’t remember and survives the experience. Since the brain is divided throughout the process where a normal child would fully integrate their personality, their personality forms separately, resulting in DID.”

There’s silence.

“That’s… that’s horrible,” Joan said, very quietly. “Do you… what happened?”

“Dunno,” Thomas said, running his finger across the paper. “If I knew, that would kinda defeat the purpose of me even having DID. But each of the other alters holds a piece of my trauma, and it’s their job to protect it, and it’s pretty much their _only_ job to protect it.”

“Oh.”

There was silence. “Yeah, so… maybe you don’t want DID.”

“Yeah, definitely not.”

And so it continued like that—the other sides were getting more time out, now. They had to, for the videos, Thomas told himself, but honestly it was just nice being able to have other people know. They told Talyn around the sixth episode and they had responded nicely, and then later confided that they’d kind of figured it out before that. Then, a few episodes after that, they decided to start including a few of their names in it, for no other reason than the fact that it was incredibly validating to see the steadily growing fanbase refer to his different alters by their names.

Virgil still got anxious filming each episode, but he did it, now, and was slowly warming up to it. They started crafting a fictional set of storylines between the characters and it started to become more acting than just being genuine, which the sides seemed to appreciate. There was something nagging at Thomas, though—

“You can’t be serious.”

“Virgil…” Thomas said, sighing slightly. “We won’t _actually_ bring Janus out, it’s for the show—it’d be interesting for the viewers—”

“Was this Joan’s idea?” Virgil said flatly. 

They were in the Mind Palace, near the front, and Virgil was sitting on a table with his legs pulled to his chest, while Thomas just sat on the floor. Thomas shook his head, slowly. “No, it wasn’t,” he admitted. “It was mine. Just because you hate him, Virgil, doesn’t mean he’s inherently _bad_ , and in reality, he would be very entertaining for the camera as long as we play up certain characteristics.”

“Like what?” Virgil said, and Thomas internally celebrated the fact that Virgil sounded mildly intrigued, even though his eyes were still narrowed and posture still stiff.

“Like… Janus is my self-preservation, but if we call him ‘Deceit’ or something, we can have him constantly do the opposite-day thing and lie over stupid things, instead of actually confronting the bigger issues. Besides, I talked to Joan, and Joan wrote up a scripted concept of Janus impersonating Patton, so Patton would just be in charge most of the time, we’d just write his lines slightly differently.”

Virgil at least looked like he was considering it. “I mean… fine,” he said, flatly. “But he _cannot_ be a main character and this is _only_ because the series is taking off so well.”

Thomas offered him a smile and Virgil softly offered one back.

When Janus shifted into the body, there was currently someone in his face doing his… makeup? and chatting about something. The person in question had semi-short, brightly colored hair, and was generally very short—Janus thought maybe he should recognize them, but couldn’t recall a name. The rest of the room was set up with lights and cameras. He stiffened up, unconsciously, as the person asked him a question.

“I’m sorry,” he said, carefully, “could you repeat that?”

The person stopped, and took a step back, and stared at him. Too late, Janus realized he hadn’t bothered shifting his voice from his lower, more sultry sort of tone. There was also something mildly heavy lining the left side of his face, which was odd, because his face only felt like that in the Mind Palace. He unconsciously reached his hand to touch it, and the person grabbed his wrist, making him flinch.

“I’m sorry,” the person said. “Please don’t touch it—I just spent a _very_ long time getting that done, I don’t want you to ruin it for the video.”

“For the—” Janus stopped and tried pitching his voice more like Thomas’s. “For the video? For the video, of course.” He knew Thomas ran a YouTube channel, so this must be one of his stunts—but that didn’t—“Can I see what this looks like?” he asked, trying to be generally agreeable and bubbly but not _too_ bubbly, didn’t want to overshoot Thomas and end up in the Patton range.

“Who are you right now?” the person asked.

“Who—who are _you_ right now?” Janus replied, in a way he hoped passed off as a joke as he internally panicked. Was there a protocol for this?

“Talyn,” the person replied. “Thomas’s friend. Which alter are you right now? I don’t recognize your voice.”

“You—” Janus faltered, slipping out of Thomas’s voice and into his usual register. “This is Janus. What are you putting on my face right now?”

Talyn looked startled, briefly. “Um. Scales?”

Janus tensed up further. “What are we filming right now?” he asked, slowly.

“A series called ‘Sanders Sides,’ a scripted series in which the fiction is he talks to his various personality traits and tries to solve issues in his life,” Talyn answered, and Janus gritted his teeth. “In reality, each of the ‘personality traits’ are his alters, but that’s not specified or discussed—it’s a series that has gathered a lot of attention on his channel—”

“So they were going to include me in this series,” Janus said, flatly, “without actually _telling_ me?” 

“I’m not involved in this,” Talyn muttered sheepishly. “I just was asked to help with props and makeup. You’d have to ask Joan or Thomas.”

“I don’t have communication with Thomas,” Janus almost said, but stopped himself. Talyn didn’t need to know that. _Remus_ , Janus said, _were you aware that there’s a series being made for Thomas’s channel with the alters in it?_

_Oooo that’s fun_ , Remus replied.

_No,_ Janus said—thought—whatever, pressing his hand to his temple. He noted he had on yellow gloves. They really went all out. _It’s not. Can you please ask Roman why on earth Thomas thought this would be a good idea?_ Silence. _Remus, come on, you know I don’t have a direct link with anyone besides you yet—_

_Roman said, quote, ‘come into the Mind Palace and ask Thomas yourself, you coward.’ I like his spunk._

Janus sighed. “Fine. You can finish my makeup. Let’s get this over with.”

Roman was the one that gave in first. He stood outside Virgil’s door for a while, shifting from foot to foot, before finally knocking. It took a full five minutes, but then the door swung open. Virgil was looking at his phone, but when he glanced up, he looked surprised, like he was expecting someone else, which he probably was. “Oh… hey.”

“I wanted to apologize,” Roman said immediately, quickly, so he could get it over with. He squinted his eyes shut so he didn’t have to look Virgil in the eyes. “I think you overreacted—but I know that going after Patton was low—I was just being stubborn.”

“Great way to apologize,” Virgil said dryly. “Tell the person they overreacted.” But he didn’t sound mad anymore, so Roman supposed that was a win.

“But I apologized regardless,” Roman said, a little bit put out—apologizing wasn’t easy to him.

“You did,” Virgil admitted. “Want to come in?” he opened the door wider, and Roman smiled easily as he slipped into the room.

(He never liked fighting with Virgil).

_Thomas._

Thomas startled at Virgil’s voice in his ear. “Yes?” he said, out loud, and Joan cast a glance at him from where they were sitting on the sofa.

A drawn-out pause followed, and then an exaggerated sigh. _Fuckin’... Janus wants to talk to you. And he can’t do that directly so he has to talk through me. Unless you want to go back into the Mind Palace. Can we switch? It’s been awhile since I’ve been out, anyway, and last time it was just for a video_.

_Fine_.

Thomas ended up in the front section of the Mind Palace, the part that mirrored the kitchen and living room of his actual house. Though the alters hadn’t shifted much from his younger years, the Mind Palace has always changed with wherever he resided the most—there was a painful period of his life where the Mind Palace mirrored several of the classrooms at school.

Janus was there, sitting on the counter, which Virgil also enjoyed doing—Thomas wasn’t sure why they did it, but they did. “So, were you planning on telling me that you were doing this… video series? Or were you just planning on stealing my identity and getting away with it?”

“The… latter?”

“How on earth did you convince Virgil to let you do this?” Janus said, and he did sound genuinely curious. “If _I_ don’t like it, he _really_ wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know,” Thomas said. “But it’s… it’s helping people, I think. Talking through these debates and morally gray areas and emotions—I think it helps the people watching feel less alone. Like, _oh, there are places where maybe there isn’t a ‘right’ answer_. People without DID are making their own ‘sides,’ just because it’s easy to split up your personality in the easy black-and-white way we script the alters for the videos. It’s just—it’s easier, you know? And it’s so validating to see us talking in the real world like we would in here, so easy and perfect.”

Something clicked in Janus’s eyes, and he relaxed, slightly, whereas previously he was strangely stiff and overly formal. “I think I understand.”

“And maybe there’d come a day where I’ll feel comfortable telling everyone. But for now—if I can help just one person,” Thomas said, “with these things in my life—if I can help one person, or ten, then I think—I think that’s worth showing more of my personal life, even if I’m not entirely comfortable with it. Because all I want to do is help people.” He turned a smile to Janus. “And I think I’m succeeding, and that brings me more happiness than hiding something ever will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really like experimenting with the scope of my work, which leads to me writing gay fanfic, straight fanfic, non-romantic fanfic, genderqueer fanfic, DID fanfic, even if I don't experience all of these things. It's never my intention to offend, I just always want to write something new so I don't bore myself with my writing, but feedback for these types of things is always appreciated!
> 
> Anyway on that note, comments and kudos are the only things that keep my writing. I have one more Sander Sides fanfic I want to write before I move on to some stuff I want to write in other fandoms.
> 
> Twitter: @xprincesscharmx (I'm just kpop stan on there tbh)  
> Tumblr: @princess-charmingx (a bunch of reblogs and memes) // @drawer-on-fire (my art blog)  
> Instagram: @absolutelyno.t (I post digital + sketchbook art there)  
> YouTube: @princess charming (speedpaints + rambling about random shit babeyyy)


End file.
